


Lest We Forget

by le_paquet_fou



Category: Original Work
Genre: Post-World War I, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:28:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_paquet_fou/pseuds/le_paquet_fou
Summary: This is a really short vignette I wrote for Remembrance Day. I felt that I should try to do something for this day, to remember all of the soldiers who fought in World War One.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Lest We Forget

I never thought I’d be anywhere near here again. I wrote it off as a haunted land, a place of restless spirits still trying to find their way home. Saying it feels weird to be back here is an understatement. I can still see the shells tearing up the earth, I can still hear the screams and moans of men in agony. It’s all still here, fresh in my mind despite the years that have passed since I was last here.

It’s changed so much. Where all the mud and dirt used to lay, there’s now a beautiful green field, like emeralds dusting the earth. Tiny blue flowers grow in patches everywhere, the same as the uniforms of all the men who used to stand beside me.

I can see the dips in the ground where the trenches used to be, now just little shallow lines in the ground. They, too, are covered in grass, as if to cover up all the mud and death that lays underneath. It’s odd, how for all of the destruction this war brought, the land was still able to claim back what it lost. If only the same can be said for all of the people who survived.

I limp over to the patch of cornflowers and awkwardly kneel down, plucking a few of the little blue flowers. I know these are sacred, but I won’t ruin their meaning. I push myself back up, wobbling as I try to regain my balance. I take a deep breath before walking away from the little patch of flowers.

I walk up to the graveyard, greeted by row upon row of unmarked white crosses. I don’t know which one belongs to Georges and which to Felix. I doubt I’ll ever really know. Still, I picked one out as the one I’ll set the flowers down at. It doesn’t matter if it’s the grave of our friend or not. I’ll gladly pay my respects to anyone who lays under that cross, and all of the other crosses in this country. They’re all fallen heros. Fallen friends.

Once I get to the cross, I kneel down and place the little bouquet of cornflowers I picked. I slowly get back up and stand in silence. Tears quietly streak down my face. I know I’ll never see Georges and Felix again, but I also know that they’d be happy to finally rest. It’s the least they deserve. It’s the least everyone in this cemetery deserves. The fighting might have felt pointless, but they changed the world, whether they knew it or not. Now, they get to rest.

“Thank you, both of you. For everything. I’ll see you next year.” I turn around and, with a heavy heart, leave. I promise to do my best to keep the memory of all the people who fought and sacrificed their lives for this war alive. Lest we forget.


End file.
